Elementary Sciences
by cadnoes
Summary: A few months after the advent of the getbackers, the irresistible force encounters the immovable object.


Elementary Sciences

Disclaimer: Getbackers is drawn and written by Ayamine Rando and Aoki Yuya. Don't be fooled though, I own Getbackers. Why else would I be writting fanfiction on this site?

Seriously now, people. I only own the story.

This bit was written after I, minding my own business and idly polishing _Curio_, was suddenly swallowed by a massive Plot Hole! I have fallen, and I cannot get up. Pending massive rewrite of chapters not even posted yet, I wrote this and another little thing. As is usual with me, the other little thing has morphed into a monster, one I am feeling stirrings of pride for. I wouldn't expect any other posts from me for more than a week.

To anyone who might actually have been reading _Curio_, I offer my sincere apologies (most especially to Rabid Lola and Vanessa S. Quest - the first people to ever comment on anything I've written. Stars and kittens for you both!). I also offer this - losely labelled - story. I will get those chapters up, and the other monster too. This pointless fluff (?) wouldn't ordinarily see the light of day, but there you are.

There's a lot of things wrong with this, so tear it to peices, if you have the time. I still need a beta-reader.

Curio is not on hold! Chapter the first will be up by the end of March. Ban's being a bastard, though. My revenge in print:

_elementary sciences_

One thing Ban would _never_ understand, Ginji had come to accept, was the concept of delegation. Not, of course, that Ginji would ever stop trying to teach him, but the idea was completely foreign to Ban. It simply wasn't in his nature.

Ginji, as Raitei, had had his hands more than full when he was only fighting off raiders from the beltline. It was actually a lot more complicated than it would seem at first, fighting the monsters. First he had to figure out where the attack was, get there before it was to late (and without getting lost), and then he had to get all the helpless people out of the way so he could fight. And hopefully not, y'know, destroy anything important while he was doing it, which was a lot harder than he tried to let on. Though of course there were those who offered to help him out with that stuff.

So it was that he'd also found himself trying to organize all the _other_ people fighting off the raiders. And not just organize them: he mediated squabbles, figured out rules for his helpers after one regrettable and never-to-be-repeated incident, and dealt with all the other problems that arose when one was dealing with a bunch of people who were crazy enough to fight monsters. And all the mundane stuff that came from just dealing with a bunch of people. Like how to feed them all. It wasn't as if he had the means to _pay_ anyone, and people couldn't effectively scavenge for food while they were running around fighting and carrying messages. Which meant more members and even more rules. And a lot of the people who wanted to help him weren't that fond of rules.

Which was why it was really, really nice to have his kings around. He could give them the authority to enforce his orders when he was elsewhere, and MarkubeX could draw up evacuation plans better than anything he'd ever come up with. He had help, of course, because Masaki knew a lot about strategy and really old guys named Alexander and Sun Tsu and stuff. Shido's surveillance system had been at least as good as MarkubeX's current one, and Kazuki's web of intelligence had been at his fingertips.

He hadn't necessarily understood their methods, at least as far as the details were concerned. _He_ certainly couldn't talk to crows. It hadn't particularly bothered him. It wasn't as if any of them could call down a bolt of lightening, either. He trusted them, they trusted him, and they were all working towards a common goal. For a long time, it had been enough for Ginji, more than he could have asked for.

Ban, though, couldn't do it.

Ban could find it in himself to cooperate, in a way. But Ban didn't work in uncertainties. At least, he didn't plan to. When Ban set out to do something, he made damn sure he could do it, all by himself. He would then work in other people, if they were available and it would be convenient, but he would never ask anyone to do something he was incapable of doing himself. He would simply find another way of doing it. Most people saw it as arrogance.

Ginji knew Ban better, though, and while Ban _was_ arrogant in his way, this behavior was entirely instinctual. Ginji saw it more as a form of self-reliance.

Ginji had a way of knowing people. Of watching them and talking with them – not even doing or discussing anything particularly important – and knowing things about them that they'd never told him, that they might not even know themselves. Ban called it intuition. Ginji wasn't sure that was it, but Ginji always watched Ban. So Ginji knew about his partner.

Ban did everything himself. Ban fought his own battles, stitched his own injuries, and washed the blood out of his clothes. He (mis)managed his own money, and anyone else's, if he could get his hands on it. Ginji knew that about Ban, but was also certain, in an idle way, that as a child, Ban had wiped away his own tears.

The thought made Ginji sad, sometimes. Sometimes it made him angry. Most of the time, he was simply glad that now, _he_ could do it for Ban, if the need ever arose. Ban relied on him. Not all the time, but he almost always built Ginji into his plans, now. The action was even more touching for its complete unconsciousness.

_Sometimes, though._

Sometimes, rare times, when Ban was being particularly pigheaded, Ginji would just as soon fry Ban frizzled and crispy than deal with the annoyance.

Not that that would necessarily help anything.

Ban was a stubborn bastard.

Ginji glowered threateningly.

Ban was not to be deterred. "I mean it, don't even think it," he was trying for dignified, but his tone was rather stained. "I just need a minute," he added, the credibility of the claim undermined by his inability to stand up straight, or indeed at all. He was propped against the wall, arms wrapped about his midriff, as if to keep his innards from spilling to the ground.

Which may well have been his intent, to judge from the blood seeping down his front.

Ginji'd seen Ban hurt before, but it never failed to unsettle him, deeply. Not even because he was particularly worried (except for when he was). Ban was ridiculously resilient. It was simply the fact that if Ban were in pain, he would do his damnedest to hide its existence and extent from Ginji. And he was a good enough liar that he would, almost certainly, succeed.

It was not conductive to healing processes.

And Ban _did_ trust him. Ginji was sure of that; knew well enough, old habits died hard. It was still impossible, though, to not be at least a little bit hurt.

But hurt had taken a backseat to annoyance tonight, and Ban was not going to get his way.

Ginji was, after all, a stubborn bastard.

Ban seemed to sense this, simultaneously levered himself from the wall and smoothed his expression to one of indifference. The effect he was going for was probably something along the lines of nonchalance. The blooming of fresh blood through his shirt made his efforts somewhat pointless.

Ginji started toward him. He'd frozen a few meters from Ban, when he'd come around the corner and realized his partner had apparently run into trouble. He'd managed to surprise Ban, probably because he'd been sneaking. He'd already found their objective, but it was rather delicate, and he hadn't really wanted to meet anyone unpleasant.

It turned out he had. Ban's expression was souring, as Ginji approached, and he appeared to be gathering breath for a tirade.

Ginji stopped an arm's length from Ban, and braced his feet apart. Ban's mouth opened, apparently of it's own volition. Ginji could nearly _see_ the reflexive torrent of profanity-smattered assurances gathering on the tip of his tongue.

Ginji paused that rant before it could even begin, by shoving the fabric wrapped vase – object of their retrieval – right in Ban's face.

Ban went slightly cross-eyed behind his glasses, trying to focus on the fragile bundle directly beneath his nose. He then glanced at Ginji uncertainly. Ginji said nothing, his gaze hard.

Ban's mouth shut with a click. Ginji stared at him.

Ban stared at the vase.

Ginji let go of it.

"SHI-" the rest of Ban's intended explicative tangled with a gasp as he jerked reflexively to catch their precious meal ticket. When his vision cleared, Ban realized that he'd managed to grab the thing without breaking it, and was cradling it against his chest like it was a baby or something.

Not the sort of image he wanted to project. He would have done something about it, too, if he hadn't been more concerned with other things. Like the fact that Ginji had evidently caught him as well, was carrying him even, in a similar fashion.

Bridal style.

Ban's brain short-circuited and stalled, but it wasn't like his mind and his mouth were connected a hundred percent of the time anyway. He managed a recitation of his earlier, interrupted speech with no thought at all, and admirable vitriol.

His brain rebooted itself as he was about halfway through, though it was running with a few glitches. This did not compute. Midou Ban was not – repeat NOT – carted about like a little girl. He was especially not carried away from a retreival, like a little girl, by his dolt of a partner. In full view of several semi-conscious guards. While carrying an old, flowery vase like a stuffed toy.

It occurred to him that he could struggle.

Though not with his arms, unless he wanted to maybe drop the vase, and fuck if he was going to do that, after the trouble they'd gone through. And, as his shredded abdominals had just informed him, yeah, the bucking and twisting wasn't happening anytime soon.

Ban kicked, furiously, but Ginji had his knees trapped and Ban wasn't getting anywhere near his head.

One of those idiot protectors stifled a snicker, and Ban realized he looked like a fucking moron. If he could walk, and hadn't just kicked that guy's ass, he would _so_ go over there and do it again.

Also, he was starting to repeat himself.

_Goddamnit! Give me something to work with here! _Unfortunately for him, Ban's brain seemed to be on a coffee break.

The only thing that popped up was a very old stand-by command.

In the absence of any other options, Ban did the only thing he could.

Ginji frowned in wary surprise as Ban ceased in his comparatively feeble struggles, and his loudly profane protests petered off to muttering and final, almost complete silence.

He glanced down at his ominously still cargo. He very soon found himself looking over his shoulder, presumably to check on the position of those not quite conscious protectors, but mostly because he couldn't entirely suppress his grin, and it wouldn't be very nice to make fun of Ban right now.

But it was still entirely too amusing to see the invincible Midou Ban-sama pouting.


End file.
